


Untouchable.

by skeletonwrites



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-09-17 09:25:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16971987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skeletonwrites/pseuds/skeletonwrites
Summary: Feyre’s starting university, and maybe a new relationship.“You’re untouchable, burning brighter than the sun. And when you’re close I feel like coming undone.”My Tumblr!





	1. Sweet things.

The colored lights that swept the club were pulsing in time to the music. Bodies were pressed against bodies, thumping along with the bass, grinding hips, and lacing fingers. When trying to speak to someone, if you weren’t yelling chances are that they might not hear you well enough to respond properly. This wasn’t Feyre’s typical scene. In fact, it wasn’t her scene at all. She wasn’t much of a partier, never had been. She’d always been too busy working to keep her family fed and sustained.

Tonight, though, she was celebrating starting class tomorrow, and she was very drunk. Not drunk enough to be in the crowd, but drunk enough that’d she had began to sway on the bar stool she was perched on. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw her friend drunk friend Suri grinding on an equally drunk stranger. Feyre couldn’t help but grin, and couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbled out of her mouth as she turned back to her drink.

“What’s so funny?” A low voice murmured in her ear, and she got a chill down her spine. His voice was like a purr, and his lips had brushed along her ear ever so softly as he spoke. Feyre could feel his chest behind her as he leaned forward, taking a glass of amber liquid from the bartender. His arm was tan, with a swirling tattoo beginning at his wrist that disappeared all the way up beyond his rolled up black sleeve. Swiveling on the stool to face him, she had a hard time stopping the sharp inhale when her eyes met his. In the lights of the club, she could see that they were blue, but not the same stormy-blue that hers were. They were a deep blue, flecked with all shades of indigo and violet. Those eyes were absolutely breathtaking and she found herself itching to get home to pick up a paint brush and paint every fleck of color she saw. And as stunning as the eyes were, the man they belonged to was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

“My friend,” she nodded toward the dance floor, toward Suri, “is so drunk. We don’t do this too often. Well, I don’t. I don’t think I’ve been out and drunk in almost a year.” His eyes were sparked with amusement as he took in her appearance, her eyes with smoky kohl and mascara rimming them. Her full lips, bare save for the lip balm she had on. Feyre wore black jeans with holes in the knees and thighs, and a white t-shirt with small holes scattered through it and paint splatters just about everywhere. Now that he looked at her again, her jeans were splattered in paint, too. The only thing not splattered in paint was her skin and the leather jacket she wore. Something about it intrigued him, especially when he noticed the streak of paint in her hair. His long, slender fingers brushed the streak of purple that ran just above her ear, and disappeared into messy bun at the top of her head.

“It doesn’t look like you even planned to do this tonight, either,” he countered, an amused grin on his face. Feyre’s ears turned bright red as her fingers felt the crusted, dried paint in her hair. She groaned.

“I wasn’t. I thought I got it all,” she sighed, leaning back against the bar and sipping her drink through it’s straw. With a shrug, she gestured to her clothes. “Oh, well. It’s not like I look put together elsewhere,” she thought aloud, fingers absently picking at the frayed denim on her thigh. “Suri didn’t give me much of a choice, and I wasn’t home to change.” Her tongue flicked out, licking her bottom lip and he wasn’t subtle about watching the gesture. “I don’t know you,” she blurted, biting her bottom lip.

“Probably a good thing, you might not like me so much if you did,” At that, her brow furrowed, causing a wide grin to spread across his lips. “Rhys.”

“Feyre,” she replied, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Well, Feyre darling, let me buy you a drink.”

“I really shouldn’t, I might do something stupid like go home with you.” His grin didn’t falter.

“Surely that wouldn’t be so bad,” he countered, a brow arching as he took in the way her cheeks flushed.

“Surely you can find someone prettier to take to bed than a silly girl covered in paint.”

“Why on earth would I want to waste my time with anyone else when you are clearly the most beautiful woman in this room?” Feyre let out a laugh, her head tilting back slightly. Truly, Rhys thought, she had no idea how beautiful she was. It was killing him, but only in the best way. He winked. “Humor me.” His eyes trailed over her body when she slid from the stool, walking a few steps beyond him before looking at him over her shoulder, a wisp of hair falling into her face.

“Are you coming?”

~

Soft music pulled her out of a deep sleep, and as she felt around the bed for her phone, she came in contact with a warm body instead. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as a broad hand tugged her body to his, his face nuzzling into her back between her shoulder blades. She felt the distinct feeling of his lips pressing small kisses there once he had brushed her hair out of the way.

“Are you going to turn that off?” She asked, only to be answered by a soft grunt. Laughing, she rolled over in his arms and reached for his phone to turn the alarm off, only to squeal as his lips found hers before she’d reached it. Laughter bubbled out of both of them as they kissed, his body rolling on top of hers, followed by soft sighs as his lips grazed down her neck. This time when she reached for the phone, she successfully snagged it off the night stand and silenced the alarm, groaning when she saw the time. 7:00 AM. She had class in an hour.

“Don’t say it,” he groaned, his lips hovering just above her belly button.

“I have to go,” she laughed, running her fingers through his hair. Saying so pained her, he had been an exceptionally giving lover last night, and beyond that, they had stayed up half the night talking about everything. He was especially interested in her art, why she chose painting over other mediums, what her favorite piece she’d ever painted was. They didn’t talk all too much about him, he’d argued that there wasn’t much to tell, but she’d pestered out of him that his family was everything to him, he liked running, and he was half Illyrian. He’d even told her that he’d been trained with Illyrian warriors in their home country, and he could wield a sword like a cauldron-damned knight in shining armor.

“When can I see you again?” He murmured against her skin, the slight scraping of his five o’clock shadow against her lower abdomen causing an eruption of goosebumps all over her body.

“Tomorrow?” She hummed, her eyes fluttering closed as he pressed a kiss to the inside of one thigh, then the other, and finally to the apex where she so desperately wanted his tongue. As if he’d heard the thought, he lifted her thigh over his shoulder and licked up her center. Feyre couldn’t tell if he was moaning in approval at seeing her tomorrow, or in approval of her taste. The blue-black hair that adorned his head was tangled in her fingers as he sucked on her clit gently, the sensation coaxing moan after moan out of her throat. “Rhys,”she moaned breathlessly.

“Hm?” His eyes flicked up to watch her, the way her mouth parted slightly as she moved against his mouth threatening to undo him completely. Slowly, he teased a finger at her entrance, laughing when she hissed at the contact. “Something the matter, Feyre darling?”

“You’re such a prick.” At that, he laughed again, but stopped his teasing and began pumping two fingers in and out of her while his tongue ravished her. His free hand grasped her fingers and interlaced them with his, and her free hand tugged on the ends of his hair. When she began to whimper, he knew she was close, so he added in a third finger and began pumping faster and harder. That wicked tongue flicked over her clit until she let out a throaty groan, which in turn had him moaning along with her. As she came around his fingers, he sucked on her clit, pulling louder moans out of her until her body fractured against the pleasure. Her breathing was labored and heavy, her body still aching for him to keep touching, to keep feeling. When he was sure that she was finished, he kissed back up her stomach, the valley between her breasts, and finally captured her mouth again. The golden brunette accepted his tongue into her mouth and he kissed her lazily, tongue swirling around hers in a way similar to how it had been elsewhere just moments ago. “I have to go,” she whispered, fingers dragging along his jaw, down his neck. With a loud sigh, he rolled off of her to grab his phone, which he then extended to her. Taking the hint, she typed in her name and phone number before handing it back to him, then slipped out of his bed.

Feyre felt his eyes on her the whole time she pulled on her jeans, then her bra. She disappeared into his closet while she pulled her hair into a messy knot on the top of her head, which had him propped up on an elbow waiting to see what she emerged with.

“I can’t very well wear my dirty shirt this morning,” she explained, pulling on a white t-shirt of his with a band logo on it. Rhys watched as Feyre’s fingers tied it up into a knot just above the waistband of her jeans, then pulled her leather jacket onto her shoulders. “Now you’ll have to see me again if you want it back.”

“I fully intend on seeing you tomorrow. We agreed.”

“That we did,” she said, grinning as she leaned over to kiss him, then moved to leave his bedroom.

“Thanks for the breakfast,” he called after her, only to be answered by her laugh floating back down the hall.

~

“I’ve heard the worst shit about this guy. Apparently he’s the biggest asshole and all of his classes are so incredibly hard. My sister had him three years ago, and she was ranting about him constantly,” the boy sitting next to Feyre rambled on to his friend as everyone settled into the advanced history class. Feyre had been hearing things like this ever since she’d started asking around about her professors. Apparently, Professor Asteria was the biggest jackass, hardass, pain in the ass - to exist ever. When signing up for classes, her advisor had even asked if she was sure she wanted advanced History with him, and not regular history with Professor Tarquin.

“Why be a college professor if you’re just going to be an asshole?” Someone else murmured behind her. It seemed to be all the buzz. Asteria was a complete and utter prick, which made Feyre all the more anxious about class, and she looked back over all of her supplies in front of her. Her laptop was open to a word-pad to take notes, she also had a notebook already open with a pencil and a pen next to it just in case she wanted to scribble something down by hand. Her phone was silenced and in her bag, and she’d managed to be fifteen minutes early. The professor wasn’t even there yet.

Next to her left hand, her phone lit up, and she glanced at the screen, unable to stop a smile from spreading across her face as she saw a text from Rhys.

_As much as I hate to be needy, I don’t think I can wait until tomorrow to see you. How about tonight? – R._

Biting her lip, she typed _Pick me up at 8_ , and hit send just as the classroom door swung open, 8:00 AM on the dot. Quickly shutting her phone off, she shoved it into the front pocket of her backpack as to not be distracted by the man she was totally smitten with. Feyre lifted her water bottle to her lips, taking a long swig as she heard a familiar voice from somewhere in the room.

“Alright everyone, good morning. I’m Professor Asteria,” his smooth, purring voice drawled. When her eyes landed on him, the water instantly spewed out of her mouth and all over her laptop. Instantly, she began choking on the water droplets that had somehow gone down the wrong pipe in her explosion, and everyone in the class was looking at her, including him. Her face was beat red, and his jaw dropped open and his eyes flashed with surprise for a moment before he put on a mask of indifference, the muscle of his jaw feathering as he clenched it and arched a brow.

For standing at the front of the room behind the professor’s desk, the voice that had introduced himself as her _professor_ , was the same man that had his head between her legs not even an hour ago. Rhys. 


	2. Undone.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When you’re close I feel like coming undone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to follow my tumblr, @highqueenofelfhame. I post lots of stuff there and I love getting to interact with all of you on there! Thank you so much for reading this story. You’re truly wonderful and I adore you.

Class was awkward. Awkward in the sense that Feyre embarrassed herself at the beginning and now everyone thought she was the weird one to look out for. Awkward in the sense that she could hardly get herself to look at Rhys while he lectured, and utterly awkward in the sense that the few times she did muster up the courage to glance his way, it was like he knew and flicked his eyes over to meet hers. Every. Time.

When he dismissed everyone, she took her time packing up her things, putting everything in the pockets and pouches they belonged while everyone else filed out quickly. When it was just the two of them, Rhys shut the door to the classroom, and waited until she timidly peeked over at him before he gestured to his office. Sucking in a breath, she worked her way down the stairs and paused in the doorway of his office, leaning against the frame.

Rhys was leaned back in his chair, a shit-eating grin on his face as he took her in. Biting her lip, she shook her head and gazed out of the window behind his head, her fingers fumbling with the knot she’d tied her – his – shirt in. “Stop looking at me like that,” she warned, but her tone was soft, the smallest bit of amusement laced into her words.

“Like what?” He feigned innocence, a handover his heart.

“Like that! Like you’ve seen me naked!”

“Oh, but I have, Feyre darling. Perhaps you need a reminder,” he cooed, reaching for her hand, which she promptly did not let him take. She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a flat look; causing a sigh to escape his lips. The light amusement, however, didn’t leave his eyes. “Come now. I didn’t know you were going to end up my student anymore than you knew I was your new professor.”

“Regardless,” she insisted, “this can’t keep going now. It’s inappropriate.” Feyre tried to sound firm, really, she did. But when he stood and took the few steps to be in front of her, his forearm resting on the doorframe just above her head, fingers grazing her hair; well, her voice faltered ever so slightly.

“Is it?” The fingers of his other hand grazed her neck, her jaw. Afraid of what her voice would sound like if she tried to speak, she merely nodded her head. Rhys’ lips hovered over hers, their breath mingling as he nudged her nose with his. With an exasperated sigh, she took his face between her hands and lifted up onto her toes, pressing her lips to his. Long, elegant fingers traced down her shoulder, her side, then slipped around to her lower back and tugged her closer to his body as his tongue traced against her lower lip.

“We’ll talk about it later,” she said quietly, pulling away to look at him before pressing a softer kiss to the corner of his mouth. His head dropped against her shoulder briefly before he stepped back and nodded, loosing a breath. She pushed passed him and scribbled her address onto a sticky note.

“I’ll pick you up at 8?”

“You’ll come over and we’ll order takeout,” she corrected, hitching her bag higher up on her shoulder. Rhys merely nodded, reaching out to run his fingers down her jaw again. Feyre grinned, then slipped out of his office and out of his classroom. Rhys collapsed into his chair, staring out the door and running a thumb across his lips. Shit. He was in such deep, unending shit.

~

Hours later, Feyre was sprawled out on the living room floor of her apartment, her roommate on the couch behind her scrolling through Netflix. Pen in hand, Feyre scribbled notes down in her notebook for Rhys’ class, highlighting different bits and pieces in her textbook. All of her other professors had simply discussed the syllabus for the first day. Rhys, however, had dived in straight away, declaring there would be a chapter test on Friday after they finished going over the chapter. It was better to start studying now, she’d decided.

“There’s nothing to watch,” Morrigan grumbled, continue her pursuit of a show while throwing popcorn into her mouth.

“Just turn Grey’s Anatomy back on. We both know that’s where we’ll end up anyway.” Feyre leaned back against the couch and Mor ruffled her hair good-naturedly. Feyre had become roommates with Mor by responding to a Facebook post in a local group six months ago. Mor was 6 years her senior, being 28 to Feyre’s 22, and she was beautiful and golden in all the best ways.

Feyre was jostled from her thoughts by a knock at the door, and she hissed a string of curses as she jumped up, scrambling to pick up all her papers and books.

“It’s 8 already!?” She exclaimed, bustling around the room to straighten things. Mor sat up a little straighter, cocking a brow.

“Oh my god is that a boy?”

“Not…yes but not exactly. Can you please go to your room? Please? Shit,” she cursed again, straightening her hair in the mirror. He knocked again. Feyre shot Mor a desperate look, and the blonde conceded, standing and shuffling back to her room as Feyre swung the door open.

“Well hello, Feyre Darling. I was beginning to think you’d invited me over just to turn me down,” he purred, earning an eye roll from the brunette as she gestured for him to enter.

“No, just lost track of time. I-“ before she could finish, he’d taken her face in his hands and pressed three soft kisses to her lips. It took everything in her not to sigh and completely melt into his touch.

“Sorry. I couldn’t help myself.” His fingers tucked a loose curl behind her ear and she shivered, pressing her lips to his again, slightly more firm than his had been moments ago.

“Rhysand!?” Mor shrieked, and Feyre jumped so far from Rhys that she hoped it hadn’t looked like anything to begin with.

“What, pray tell, are you doing here, Morrigan?” He drawled, reaching back out for Feyre’s hand. She tried to pull away, but his circled his thumb over her knuckles. “It’s okay.”

“Okay?! If we get caught you could lose your job- I, Mor you can’t tell anyone, please. It isn’t even…it isn’t what it looks like,” Feyre rambled, her cheeks a bright red at this point. At that, Mor started laughing, but a gleeful laugh.

“Oh my god you slick bastard! I’m actually, very on board with this. He needs someone to keep him from being so cauldron damned broody all the time. You were starting to challenge Az on that front. I should be asking you what you are doing here. I live here. Mother, I should have set this up months ago-“

“Can someone tell me what the hell is going on? Is she another student of yours?” Her voice started out as a squeak, the frustration of the situation finally getting to her. Feyre didn’t like feeling like everyone knew something that she didn’t. At her question, the woman that looked like sunshine, and the man that looked like night both snorted.

“I wouldn’t be able to teach her a damn thing if I tried. We’re cousins,” Rhys explained. “Morrigan here actually runs my family business for me so that I can teach.”

“Oh,” Feyre’s mouth was open slightly in surprise. This was a turn she had not expected this evening. They didn’t even look remotely alike. “Mor-“

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going out. I don’t want to hear him have sex,” she made a show of gagging as she slipped on her shoes and grabbed her purse, but they heard her squeal with glee once the front door was closed. Rhys pressed his lips together and shook his head, staring at the door for a moment before turning his eyes back to Feyre, who was still flushed.

“Remind me to kick her ass later for not telling me that her roommate was the most exquisite creature on the planet,” he said, tucking his hands into his pockets as he circled around the room, eyes roving over the art Feyre had created and proudly hung on the wall. A small smile danced across Feyre’s lips as she leaned against the arm of the couch and watched him stop at each and every painting.

“This one,” he finally said, standing in front of one of her favorites. It had a background so dark blue it was nearly black, and portrayed a peak of mountains. The sky was scattered with what had to had been hundreds of tiny stars, with three more prominently standing out just about the peak. “This one is my favorite.”

“It’s one of mine, too.”

“You painted all of these?” He turned to look at her, an expression written on his face that she couldn’t quite place. Feyre merely nodded, gesturing to a closet in the corner of the room.

“I’ve the supplies to prove it.” At that, Rhys grinned, sauntering back over to her. Feyre was now seated on the arm of the couch, and Rhys stood between her legs, smoothing his hands over her hair. After a moment, he kissed the top of her head, hands cupping her face gently. She tilted her head back slightly to look up at him.

“It is inappropriate, you know,” she said softly. His grin faltered, brows wrinkling together. Rhys nodded, thumbs grazing her jaw. Her eyes closed as she continued, “I really need to focus on my studies. I can’t lose my scholarship to an inappropriate student teacher relationship. If I would have known, Rhys, I never would have gone home with you last night, I-“

“Feyre,” his voice was soft and soothing, warm and dark. Ever the slight purr to his accent that made her toes curl thinking about the way he said her name. She opened her eyes and exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. He brushed a thumb over her bottom lip, then leaned down and kissed her softly, gently. A sigh escaped her full lips, and she moved her hands to touch him, but stopped and laid them on the couch beside her. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured against her lips before he kissed each corner of her mouth. “Say the word,” he kissed her eyelid, “and I’ll stop.” Rhys moved to kiss her other eyelid, then the tip of her nose, her mouth. Her lips parted slightly, her hands balled into fists. As he moved to kiss her jaw, she tilted her head to the side, giving him full access down the column of her neck. The way he said her name against her skin was like a prayer, like she was the only goddess he would ever choose to worship. Over and over he spoke her name, his voice getting quieter with every kiss down to her collarbone.

“Rhys,” she breathed, her fists pushing against his stomach gently.

“Tell me to stop,” he said again, pulling back to look at her with such intensity that desire pooled in her stomach. She couldn’t explain it, the way she felt toward him. Only having met him the night before, he was still basically a stranger, and her professor at that, but there was something undeniable there. A pull, like a thread that he kept tugging on, coaxing her closer. Feyre had the distinct feeling that she wasn’t the only one that felt the connection. She couldn’t be. He wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t.

“I can’t do that.” She said it so quietly that he almost didn’t hear her and she could see it then, in the way he looked at her, that he understood how she felt because he was feeling the same way. So quickly she had no time to process, he swept her up into his arm and pressed his lips to hers, mumbling about her bed. “The last one on the left,” she mumbled into his mouth as he carried her down the hall. Feyre’s fingers tangled into his hair as he walked them into the room, kicking the door closed behind them.

Rhys laid her down on the bed softly and she scooted back to the center of it as he crawled on after her, their lips never breaking contact. His tongue lazily stroked hers as if he had all the time in the world to kiss her, and he wanted to take his time to memorize everything about her mouth. Those broad, tan hands pushed her sweatshirt up and over her head, her own small ones working to get his unbuttoned before she pushed it off his shoulders. Shrugging it off, he pulled back for a moment, taking in the sight of her, drinking her in. She was naked down to her waist, and his fingers were already toying with the drawstring of the sweats she’d been lounging in.

“We shouldn’t.” When she spoke, Feyre’s voice came out shaky, like she was unable to restrain herself.

“I know,” he agreed, his voice sounding raw and much like her own, “but I don’t think I can stay away.” And that sentence alone had her coming undone as she reached her hands up around his neck and pulled his mouth back to hers.

Hours later, Feyre lay with her head on his shoulder, tracing the lines of his tattoos with her fingers. His fingers played with her hair, twirling it around, massaging and scratching her scalp gently. She was in heaven.

“We were supposed to talk about it,” she giggled, tilting her head back to look at him. Rhys was grinning at her, and leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to her lips.

“Do you want to not see each other?” His expression was serious, violet eyes clear. Feyre shook her head and sighed.

“I don’t know, Rhys. I don’t know,” she sighed again, rubbing the heels of her hands into her eyes. Pulling the sheet around her, she sat up and pulled her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them as she looked at him.

“Do you need time to think about it? Do you want to put things on hold until you know what you want to do?” Rhys didn’t sound mad, which was shocking to her. Her last boyfriend had been…well, he’d been controlling and out of his mind obsessed with her and didn’t ever ask her what she wanted. Being asked now nearly threw her off. She genuinely didn’t know. She was used to being told what she wanted.

“I think…maybe a little time. You’re my professor, and I –“ Rhys’ hand reached out and captured hers, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.

“Take all the time you need.” Rhys pressed a kiss to her knuckles, then the inside of her wrist before he rolled out of bed and got dressed. Before he ducked out of the door, he kissed her forehead and then her lips softly. “Call me anytime. It doesn’t have to be about this for us to talk,” he reassured her, kissing her mouth again. With a wink, he disappeared out of her bedroom door, and a few moments later she heard the front door click shut. Feyre flopped back onto the bed letting out a frustrated sigh, her mind already racing with thoughts. What on earth was she going to do?


	3. Toilet Paper.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre meets some new friends. Rhys has a confession.

Feyre sat with her legs folded beneath her on her bed, her textbook for Rhysand’s class open before her. Her eyes skimmed the page, highlighting important facts and phrases as she read the chapter; occasionally jogging down notes to pay extra attention to in her notebook. This was a particularly long chapter that had to be read with end of chapter questions completed by tomorrow, and due to her inability to focus on anything besides what she wanted to do about Rhys, she hadn’t managed to get any of it done in the last few days. Feyre had his class twice a week, and she’d sat through his class two times since he told her to take all the time she needed. Feyre had yet to text him, and in class he’d barely given her a second glance. She didn’t blame him, if the tables had been turned she probably would have assumed that he was done with her, and that’s probably exactly what he thought. Now, she supposed, he was just treating her like any other student, but it didn’t bother her any less. She wasn’t mad at him, but she certainly didn’t like feeling like she was on the outside of his life.

As she threw her pencil down and laid back against her pillows, she suddenly felt very stupid. She had slept with the man twice, and though they had talked for hours, he was still a stranger. It wasn’t like they’d been dating before everything unraveled. It had just been sex. So why was it so hard to let it go and stop thinking about him?

“Fey?” Mor’s voice sounded from outside her door, two soft knocks following before the door creaked open. Feyre peaked at Mor through her fingers.

“Hey,” she said, rubbing her eyes as Mor made her way over and crawled into the bed next to her, careful to avoid all the papers.

“I know you have work to do, but I was going to dinner with some friends in an hour and thought you might want to get out of the house. You’ve been cooped up in here for like three days,” she said, her eyes wandering over Feyre’s wrinkled pajamas that she hadn’t changed out of in at least two days. Her hair was piled in a messy bun on top of her head, and probably needed to be washed.

“As much as I’d like to, I really need to finish everything for this chapter before tomorrow.” Feyre sat back up, picking her pencil up as she started to skim over the page, but Mor picked up the textbook and closed it. “Morrigan!”

“No, this is officially an intervention. You need fresh air and a shower, and I’m not taking no for an answer. You can leave after you eat, but you need to just get out for a little while,” she insisted, closing Feyre’s notebooks and putting her pencil and highlighter back in their case. With a sigh, Feyre rolled her eyes, but shrugged her shoulders and muttered something that sounded like ‘yeah okay.’ Mor squealed, throwing her arms around her roommate as she dropped off the bed and disappeared into Feyre’s closet.

“You haven’t even worn half of this stuff,” Mor mused, her voice slightly muffled. Feyre rolled her eyes and walked into the bathroom, turning on the shower and pulling her hair from its bun. Yep, it definitely needed to be washed. Feyre could hear Morrigan rambling about what she should wear, but the brunette merely shut the bathroom door and slipped into the shower, drowning out her bossy friend with the steaming water.

-

Exactly an hour later, Feyre entered the living room, mussing her hair with her fingers. She had chosen to wear her hair down in loose waves, but she had a hair tie around her wrist because she knew she would throw it up later at some point; she almost always did. Her eyes were rimmed with black liner, the top winged out in a perfect point with light shading through the crease to add definition. She’d even opted for a thicker layer of mascara, and her gray-blue eyes stood out so starkly against the dark makeup. Feyre’s fair skin glowed, the foundation she’d opted to wear having a dewy finish, and the young woman hadn’t been able to resist dusting highlight over her cheekbones for a little extra sparkle. For the first time in quite awhile, Feyre had felt genuinely beautiful.

Her clothing option, as usual, was pretty simple: A white t-shirt and black jeans with holes in the knees, her favorite black leather jacket draped over her shoulders. She carried a blood red bag that matched the heels on her feet. Mor didn’t even seem disappointed in the way that she looked, though she did mutter “Why don’t you ever wear what I lay out for you?” Under her breath. Feyre had merely laughed.

A short drive later, and they’d arrived at their favorite spot: Rita’s. It was a frequent haunt of theirs, Mor coming more often than Feyre, but Feyre still loved the food and the environment Rita’s provided it’s patrons. Music played, giving a light ambiance to the mood, and it the chatter of voices filled Feyre’s ears as she followed Mor back to a table. The people sitting at the table began to actually cheer when they saw the golden blonde, and Mor did a little twirl before plopping down in a seat next to a handsome man with dark hair and hazel eyes. There were two other seats at the table available, and Feyre chose the chair next to the small woman with chin length black hair and gray eyes. The chair to her left was empty, and on the other side of that chair was a man with his brown hair pulled half up into a messy bun at the crown of his head. The look suited him.

“Guys, this is Feyre, Feyre, this is Cassian, Azriel, and Amren. My very best friends and sometimes least favorite people on the planet,” she said cheekily. Cassian snorted in protest, and Azriel merely looked at her out of the corner of his eye as he took a drink of his beer.

“Feyre, like Feyre, Feyre?” Cassian asked, leaning forward on his elbows. He was handsome, if in a rough, hyper-masculine way. His arms were corded with muscle and Feyre could see the outline of his pectorals through his t-shirt. She arched a brow, resting her chin in her hand.

“I’m unsure if I’m missing something, or if you just wanted to say my name over and over,” she said. Amren chuckled to her right, and Azriel half smiled.

“Feyre, as in my roommate Feyre,” Mor clarified, shooting Cassian a look that Feyre wasn’t quite sure the meaning of.

“Yes, Cassian, as in that Feyre,” a voice purred behind her before dropping into the last available seat next to her. Feyre jolted as her eyes met a pair of uniquely blue eyes that were so dark they always struck as being violet. A breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding slipped past her lips as she looked at Rhys, who was smiling at her softly. “Hello, Feyre, darling.”

“Rhys,” she breathed, unable to hide the way the corners of her mouth twitched up into a smile. “I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

“Did I forget to mention that? Oops,” Mor said, shrugging dramatically and winking across the table as she leaned closer to Azriel to listen to what he and Amren were talking about.

“Would you have come if you’d known?” He asked her, his eyes raking over her face. Feyre shrugged slightly, but Rhys smiled. “You look absolutely exquisite.” Feyre couldn’t hide the reddening of her cheeks, nor could she stop the smile that spread across her lips. She bit her lower lip, eyes drifting down to her hands.

“Rhys, I’m sorry that I-“ she started, but he cut her off.

“Absolutely unnecessary, Feyre. I told you to take your time and I meant it. Don’t ever be sorry for needing time to think.” His voice was soft and tender, like a gentle caress. Feyre could hardly fathom the situation; her ex had been so demanding and had never let her have space unless it was he that wanted it. Yet here was a man that was willing to let her have all the time she needed to process their complicated situation and he wasn’t asking for anything in return, nor was he impatient with her for it. Feyre grinned at him, and he returned the gesture before they both tumbled easily into the conversation at the table.

Mor and Rhys’ friends were some of the the funniest people Feyre had ever met. Her stomach was hurting from laughing so hard at Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel’s banter. Cassian seemed overly eager to share embarrassing stories of Rhys, with Azriel chiming in every so often with little details to make the story even better.

“Oh my god, tell her about your senior prank,” Mor jumped in on the tail end of one of the stories, and Feyre’s brows rose. “It’s my favorite story, because Cassian turned into such a little bitch.” Amren nodded in agreement with the blonde, her blood red lips curling in a wicked way. To Feyre’s surprise, it was Azriel that lead the telling of that story.

“So, senior year, we stole some keys to the gates of the school. They were big on security, so the gates to the parking lot were closed and locked with a chain and padlock every night, and so were specific entry points to the actual school, and any gates for the track and the baseball field, right? So we stole the keys to the gates from our coach after two-a-days for football. We bought new padlocks to exchange with the old ones-“

“Not to mention copious amounts of toilet paper to toilet paper all of the trees on the property the night before school started,” Rhys interjected. His eyes were flashing with mischief as Az spoke.

“Right. So we each had a duffel bag stuffed with toilet paper, and Rhys had the bag with the padlocks. Cas and I were going to get started on the toilet papering, and Rhys was going to change out the locks with one of our other friends at the time, and then meet up with us to get help us finish it off later. So after about forty five minutes or so, one of our friends was on watch, driving around the school constantly to make sure no cops or anything showed up. He comes over the walkie-talkie, letting us know that a police officer had just stopped near one of the gates because he saw some of the toilet paper in the trees and now he was out of his car walking around the property.”

“Then like, five minutes later, he told us there were like four other cop cars pulling up. So naturally, we all freaked and started running,” Rhys said. “I’m the fastest runner, and my bag was empty, so I threw it in a dumpster and took off running, and jumped into our friends car and we bolted,” he was laughing at the end of the sentence, receiving sharp looks from both Azriel and Cassian. Feyre couldn’t help but grin, excited to see where the rest of this story was going.

“So me and Cass take off, trying to just get off the property and away from the cops.”

“Our other friend that had been helping me,” Rhys interjected again, “we found out later that he had jumped into a dumpster and hid in it for like an hour before crawling out and walking home. Which really was foreshadowing to what a piece of shit he’d be later in life.” Feyre looked at him questioningly, but he waved her off. “Another story for another time.”

“So me and Cass are running, Luke and Rhys have ditched us at the scene, and the tool was hiding in a dumpster. It didn’t take long for the cops to catch up with me and Cass because like total idiots, we jumped the fence for the baseball field and were running across it, and then the cops were coming at us from two directions – behind us and in front of us,” Across from Feyre, Cassian groaned.

“The cops had their flashlights, and one of them had a gun drawn, because they didn’t know that the hell the guys had in their bags,” Rhys explained.

“So they’re yelling, ‘What’s the in the bag?!’ And I’ve always been mellow, I guess you could say. So I was just waiting for them to tell me what they wanted me to do, but this wimp over here has his hands all the way up in the air, starting crying, and through a sob yells ‘It’s just toilet paper, sir!’” Everyone at the table burst out laughing, Feyre having to cover her mouth with one hand and hold her stomach with the other she was laughing so hard.

“I was scared, alright?! And next to me, Azriel just shot me the most incredulous look like I was the biggest baby in the world,” Cassian exclaimed, throwing his hands up, but Feyre could see the corners of his mouth twitching up.

“So they went through the bag, and since we were trespassing, we got arrested,” Az finished.

“Dad was so pissed,” Rhys said, shaking his head as he laughed. Feyre wrinkled her brows at him. “They’re my brothers. Adopted, but brothers none-the-less,” he explained. Feyre nodded, turning her attention back to the boys. Azriel and Cassian were both grinning.

“We got grounded for ages. And Rhys got his ass handed to him for leaving us there like he did.” Cassian shook his head, and Rhys shrugged.

“I’ve still never been to jail. I’d leave them there all over again. Maybe not Az, but maybe Cassian depending on my mood,” he pondered, stroking his chin dramatically. Everyone laughed, even Amren next to her. Amren, Feyre was learning, was a woman of few words, but she somehow fit in with everyone else like a glove. Feyre couldn’t help but feel like she fit in perfectly, too.

Not long after the end of that story, the check was brought out to the table, and everyone paid their portions. It was getting late, and Feyre stood from the table, collecting her bag in her hands.

“I’ve had so much fun with you guys but I have some homework I need to wrap up,” she said, offering a small wave. They all waved back, each of them exclaiming that she had to come out another night. She agreed, and Rhys stood next to her.

“Can I walk you out?” He asked, eyes hopeful and light with happiness. She nodded, taking his hand when he held it out to her. She waved to everyone over her shoulder once more, then let Rhys lead her outside.

Feyre leaned against the brick of the building when they got out into the chilly night air. Nights in Velaris were beautiful, but almost always chilly, even in early autumn. Rhys stood before her, studying her face carefully.

“I didn’t know she was going to bring you,” he finally said, still holding her hand gently in his. Feyre smiled.

“It would have been okay if you did. I had fun. Your friends…they’re amazing. I think I like them better than my own family,” she laughed, running her fingers through her hair.  
“You really should join us again. You fit. Not many people do, but you fit with us. And I really liked seeing you outside of my classroom.”

“You hardly looked at me last week,” she said quietly. When her eyes met his, he had pressed his lips together and furrowed his brow.

“Because when I look at you, Feyre…I hardly know you. But when I look at you I feel like I can’t breathe. Yet…at the same time I feel like I’m able to breathe for the first time in my life. I look at you and feel like everything bad or questionable I’ve done in my past has died and doesn’t matter, because I only want to be someone good, someone that you would want. Someone you could be proud of. When I look at you, Feyre darling, I feel my self control shattering more and more. But I promised you space and time and I intend to give it to you.” Feyre swallowed, reaching out to run her fingers along his jaw. He leaned into her touch, pressing a kiss to her palm, and as her phone buzzed, signifying the arrival of her cab, she rocked onto her toes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“I’ll text you,” she said softly, offering him a small smile that he didn’t see, because his eyes were still closed from the kiss as she slipped past him and climbed into her cab, leaving him standing in the parking lot, wondering what his confession meant for any future they may have together.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my loves! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! The senior prank story is actually one of my favorite stories from my brothers high school career, his friend being the Cassian in the story. We still laugh about it, and I’ve always loved telling it and felt like it could go with these three perfectly. 
> 
> Let me know what you think of Rhys’ confession! Follow my tumblr @highqueenofelfhame! Love you guys so much, xoxo.


	4. Found.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I found love where it wasn’t supposed to be  
> Right in front of me, talk some sense to me  
> I found love where it wasn’t supposed to be  
> Right in front of me  
> Oh, talk some sense to me.  
> I found by Amber Run 
> 
> *WARNING: This chapter depicts and alludes to sexual assault and domestic abuse.

Rhysand sat at his desk in his office, reading over homework from his students. His TA was out sick so he had to resort to grading his own papers. Not that he minded. He loved his job, being able to talk about all historical things that he loved so dearly. Next week, they would begin talking about the age of Aelin Galathynius, which happened to be one of his favorite things to teach. It also was a subject that all of his students were always enamored by. She was a legend, a hero, her husband and her court equally legendary and heroic. For now, though, he graded papers over the dark ages just before Aelin started to fight for Erilea. He genuinely hated King Dorian I. He was a prick.

A soft knock at his door pulled him away from the paper, glancing over. His expression immediately softened as he saw Feyre standing before him, pieces of her hair falling from her bun. Rhys jolted out of his seat, crossing the room to her and pulling her in by the hand and closing the door behind them.

“This is unexpected,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

“And okay, I hope?”

“It’s always okay for you to come see me, Feyre darling. Is everything okay?” Rhysand’s thumb circled over the back of her hand momentarily before she gently pulled her hand from his. Rhys’ expression faltered, his smile no longer reaching his eyes. Feyre’s arms wrapped around her body as she sat in the chair before his desk, brows furrowed together. Rhys knelt before her, searching her face. “What is it?”

“I can’t think properly when you touch me,” her voice was so quiet he might not have heard her if he wasn’t so close. At her confession, he couldn’t stop the lazy grin that his lips eased into. “I’ve been thinking, since the other night. About how we should handle things.” Rhys stood, leaning back against his desk with raised brows.

“And what conclusion have you come to?”

“You told me you didn’t think you could stay away. But Rhys I think you have to,” her eyes darted to the ground as she spoke, her voice strained as if it hurt her to speak. “I can’t lose my scholarship. I can’t be the reason you lose your job I-“

“It’s okay, Feyre. I understand,” Rhys’ voice was calm and collected as he took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. Feyre let out a sigh and rested her head against his chest and they both stood like that for a moment, his hands moving to rub his back gently, her hands resting against his sides. It was quiet for several beats until the sharp rap of someone knocking at the door jerked them out of their reverie, causing Feyre to jump almost out of her skin as she distanced them. “Come in,” he said flatly, violet eyes on Feyre. The door swung open revealing Coach Tarquin, and Feyre hitched her bag higher up on her shoulder.

“I’ll see you in class, Professor Asteria,” she said softly, giving both men a tight smile as she slipped through the door. Rhys stared after her for a moment, hardly registering the words that Tarquin spoke.

-

“She didn’t mention anything to you?” He said into his phone as he stuffed papers into various folders, then stuffed his folders into the bag he carried his papers to be graded in. Rhys had been scattered all day, the confession from Feyre the last thing that he’d expected to happen. Things had felt so easy for them, and he couldn’t explain it, but he felt like he needed to know her, needed to be around her. There wasn’t a moment that passed during his day that she wasn’t on his mind. It wasn’t even just the sex that he was already missing. It was just talking to her, becoming her friend.

“Honestly, I had no idea. If I had to have guessed, I would have guessed that she was going to say you should sneak around,” Mor’s voice was muffled through the phone, as if she was transferring it from one ear to the other. Rhysand sighed, leaning against the edge of his desk as he passed a hand over his face.

“I know it sounds completely mental, but I feel like I need to know her. I feel this…pull toward her. I don’t know how to explain it but I knew from the second that I saw the paint in her hair at the club, the way she was laughing at seemingly nothing. I’m twenty-eight years old and I feel like a lovesick teenager.”

“Do you want me to talk to her?” Rhys considered the thought, but let out a defeated sigh.

“No. I don’t want to push her. If she doesn’t want this I can’t make her do it.”

“Let me know if you change your mind. I have to go, Az has some security stuff to go over before we head out. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow,” he replied, ending the call and slumping down into his chair, thoughts completely consumed by the girl covered in paint.

-

Days passed, and the only time Feyre saw Rhys was in class. She had been so anxious to go to class, afraid he’d be angry with her, but he still smiled at her when she left at the end of the period, still graded her papers fairly and professionally. The only time they’d been alone was when she’d dropped her backpack on the floor, spilling it’s contents everywhere. Rhys had merely stopped to help her collect her things, and wished her a good day before disappearing into his office.

Judging by the way that he treated his other students, looking at a handful of the boys in her class like they were completely numpties, even having the driest of tones with them, he was his usual self. He didn’t soften his voice around her name in class as he had before, but she thought perhaps he was giving her what she wanted. She’d wanted to be treated normal, as though she was just his student, and that included him not being quite so tender when it came to her in class…didn’t it?

Feyre letting out a strangled groan, causing Isaac to look up from where he sat, perched on her bed next to her. Her head dropped onto his shoulder, eyes closing as she thought and overthought the situations she managed to get herself into. Not only had her relationship with Tamlin been the hottest of messes, she’d managed to accidentally get herself into a relationship with her professor. Why couldn’t things just be normal for her? Why couldn’t she meet someone that wasn’t out of his mind insane, or that wasn’t her teacher? Better yet – why couldn’t she have just met her teacher when he wasn’t her teacher at all?

“Do you want to talk about it?” Isaac asked, flipping the page of his book. Feyre shook her head and Isaac nodded, eyes skimming his textbook as he jot down another note. Isaac was the only person at the university she knew from her home town. They’d been something of a couple for awhile before she’d met Tamlin and moved away from home, and had managed to rekindle their friendship since starting school. Before Feyre had found Mor, she was going to move in with Isaac as a roommate, and she was glad she didn’t have to resort to that.

“How’s Lucien been?” She said to the male beside her, tilting her head back to look at his face. Before he could answer, Mor pushed her door open, eyes widening at the two on the bed.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” she said, pulling her hair over her shoulder. “My flat iron gave out, can I borrow yours?” Mor was eyeing Isaac suspiciously, and Feyre shot her a confused look as she pointed to the bathroom.

“Go for it.” Mor nodded, giving Feyre a strained smile as she snagged the tool she needed from the bathroom and vanished out of the room once more. Feyre chewed on her bottom lip, briefly questioning what her and Isaac curled up on the bed had looked like, then scoffed at herself. As if she would ever go back down that road with Isaac. He hadn’t been a particularly giving lover, and after Rhysand, Feyre wasn’t sure she’d be able to sleep with anyone ever again.

Glancing at his phone, Isaac shot Feyre an apologetic glance. “I should get going. I have a date,” he informed her, slipping off the bed and pulling his boots back on. Feyre grinned widely in response, lightly shoving his shoulder.

“I can’t wait to hear all about it!” She squealed, earning a shake of his head as he departed her room. Alone, she sunk down into her pillows, debating asking Mor if she could tag along to whatever shenanigan she was going to get into, but thought better of it. Instead, she opened her laptop, pulled up Netflix, and turned on a movie to get her through her evening alone.

-

“I’m so sorry, Rhys. I didn’t see this coming,” said Mor. Rhys fixed his gaze on the foam that lined the top of the beer he held. Feyre was already with someone else? Was that why she had ended things? Something about it didn’t make complete sense to him. She didn’t seem like the type of girl to not tell him about seeing someone else. She’d always been so open with him. “Maybe you should call Cresseida,” Mor continued, wiggling her brows.

“Isn’t that a little sleazy?”

“Since when have you ever cared about being sleazy?” Cassian interjected, earning a kick under the table from Azriel and an incredulous look from Mor and Amren.

“I’m not like that anymore,” Rhys grumbled, fumbling with the home button on his iPhone. After a few minutes, he finally unlocked it and pulled up a message to Cresseida, asking her if she wanted to get dinner tomorrow. It didn’t take long for her to reply and agree, and even less time for Tarquin to send him messages of good luck. Did he want to go out with someone else? Not really. But maybe it would be refreshing for him to be with other people if Feyre was, too. He had to admit that he was way too attached to her. They’d spent so little time together but he had just known…

Rhys downed the rest of his beer and leaned back against his chair, lips pursed. Mor was eyeing him studiously, no doubt catching the way his jaw feathered as he sat, brooding over how he’d not really ever had Feyre at all. He found himself thankful that he’d never had to watch her be with other men before, because he was finding it difficult even now to give her the space she required from him. All he wanted to do was twist her hair around his fingers, press kisses to her jaw, hold her hand. He was acting like a damned lovesick teenager and he couldn’t stand it.

Gripping his phone too tightly, he shot Cresseida another message, asking her to meet him in half an hour. When she agreed, he stood from the table, barely giving so much as a nod to his family as he departed the bar and took off down the street to a restaurant.

-

Shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket, Feyre walked down the sidewalks of the Rainbow. It was her favorite place, a collection of beautifully bright and colorful buildings that made up the art district of Velaris. She had been unable to focus on her movie, opting instead to take a walk under the cover of night. The Rainbow was busy as usual, more so since it was a Friday evening. People milled about, streaming in and out of the shops with bags and boxes containing small sculptures, canvases, and other custom art pieces.

Her favorite restaurant in all of Velaris, a delicious authentic Chinese place, was at the end of the street, and she shuffled inside to place an order. She came here so often that they knew her by name and had memorized her order. It was another thing she loved about the Rainbow, they all seemed to appreciate and love their customers equally. Someday, she wished to have her own gallery on the strip.

While she waited for her food, she slipped into a booth and began skimming through Snapchat stories. Mor’s was full of drunk Cassian – Feyre’s favorite part of each snap being how completely done Azriel looked to be with him in every single video and photo. Lucien’s had videos of a massive bonfire at Tamlin’s, a few with the tool himself making an appearance. Sighing, she pulled down the map feature, looking at everyone’s bitmoji’s of who was in the area. Surprisingly, she noticed Rhysand’s, as it was nearly right on top of hers. Glancing around, she finally noticed him in the opposite corner of the restaurant, and she started to stand to go say hello, when she noticed the woman he was with.

She was beautiful, the woman, with deep skin and white hair that contrasted so starkly it made her absolutely striking. It wasn’t fair for Feyre to feel the pulling at her heart, the twisting of her stomach, but she surely felt it anyway. She hardly noticed when they set her order down in front of her, but she picked it up and left the restaurant, head ducked down to hopefully avoid being noticed by Rhys. Despite having been the one to call things off, Feyre felt the unmistakable ache in her heart from seeing him with another woman. She had half a mind to ask him if it was a little soon for him to be moving along, but she didn’t, instead opting to stay invisible as she forced her feet to carry her home.

-

It was just starting to get dark when Feyre stumbled into the bar, already a little tipsy from dinner with her sisters. Their relationship wasn’t the best at the present, and it always took several glasses of wine to make it through the meal. Tonight required more wine than usual, as she learned of her sister Elain’s engagement to a complete and total idiot.

Sliding on a bar stool, she caught the bartender’s attention, waving them over. She leaned up onto her forearm’s raising her voice to be heard over the loud music as she ordered a gin and tonic, being almost too eager when confirming that she did, in fact, want lime as well.

She waited patiently, drumming her fingers on the bar, when she was suddenly encapsulated by a scent of cologne that she was all too familiar with. Her body stiffened as two golden arms trapped her at the bar, her body between them. Golden hair fell over her shoulder as alcohol scented breath tickled her ear.

“Feyre,” the low voice said, a dangerous sound.

“Tamlin,” she replied, trying not to let her fear show. It was hard, trying to reign in it, but she managed. As long as he didn’t touch-

Tamlin’s lips grazed her ear and she shuddered as she took her drink from the bartender. She took a long sip and swiveled in the chair, look up at her ex-fiancée for the first time in months.

“I miss you,” he breathed, the alcohol so strong on his breath that she cringed.

“As lovely as it is to see you,” she lied, “I really can’t talk tonight.” Not liking that answer, he gripped her by her upper arms and yanked her so hard she dropped her drink, glass and alcohol shattering across the floor. Feyre tried to catch anybody’s attention for help, but it was no use. People liked to mind their own business. Few people were ever brave enough to stand up to a bully.

Tamlin dragged her out the side exit and into an alley, shoving her so hard she slammed into the wall with such force that all the air cleared from her lungs. Gasping for breath, she touched her shoulder where it had made contact with the brick.

“You will always make time for me, do you understand?”

“I know you don’t want to hurt me,” she said, raising her hand to touch his face. But there was nothing of the man she had once loved so long ago in the eyes of the man she now looked into.

-

Rhysand‘s hands were shoved deep into his pockets as he walked toward the bar, Mor on his tail. They were double dating tonight, Morrigan meeting up with Emerie and Rhysand with Cresseida. Despite their date the night before, he’d merely walked her home and dodged the kiss she had tried to give him by pressing his lips to her cheek instead. He didn’t want to be kissing anyone but Feyre, but it didn’t seem she returned the sentiment.

His mind simply wouldn’t stop replaying their conversation over and over. Had she been any other woman, he would have already forgotten about her. But she hadn’t been just any other woman, had she? No, she had been kind, but had feist and fire. She was funny without ever being mean. Her laugh…mother above, the sound of her laugh was something he could have listened to forever. And knowing that it was, in fact, he who made her laugh made it all the better. The gray of her eyes was an ocean he found himself wanted to drown in. No…Feyre Archeron had not been any other woman. She –

The sound of someone gasping for air pulled him out of his reverie and he stopped in his tracks. Mor bumped into him, her phone flying across the concrete and she shot him a look, opening her mouth to chew him out, no doubt, but he held up a hand to silence her. He peered down the alley they were passing, eyes combing over the dirt and trash littered about the floor. It took a moment, but as he took a few steps into the lengthy alley, he noticed a shoe poking out from behind a dumpster. His heart thundered in his chest as he rushed down, Mor on his heels.

Behind the dumpster lay a girl so beaten and bloody that her facial features were little more than a swollen, puffy mess. Her hair was matted down with blood, her eyes swollen nearly all the way shut. Her arms were bruised where large hands had clearly gripped them too tightly, a faint bruise beginning to purple around her neck. That probably explained the gasping for air. The motherfucker had choked her so hard she could hardly breathe.

Behind him, Mor was already on the phone with emergency services, articulating the urgency of the situation. Rhysand, however, was frozen at the way her jeans were around her knees, her shirt askew. If he hadn’t already been a close enough from going dark, just out of anger that someone had done this to the poor girl at all, the realization of just who the girl was had his blood raging and boiling so loud in his ears that he couldn’t focus on anything else.

It had been bothering him the moment he saw her face, where he knew her from. Surely she was a student, and he had been right about that. She was a student, but she was also his favorite student.

Rhysand dropped to his knees, hands reaching for her but jerking them away as soon as he started to reach. There was no doubt in his mind that she wouldn’t want to be touched right now. Instead, her name fell from his lips barely above a whisper. Surprising him, Feyre reached for him as she let out a breathless sob, her fingers unable to come up with enough strength to wrap around his finger.

“Who did this to you.” His voice was cold, angry. His eyes searched her face, her brutally bruised and bloodied face, and he barely caught the name that she mouthed before he was on his feet and running, running down the alley as fast as he could, rage and horror fueling every step he made as he disappeared into the cover of darkness.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my loves! I completely forgot to post this chapter here, it’s been on my tumblr for about a week now so be sure to follow me @highqueenofelfhame! I typically upload there first so sometimes chapters will be up a day or two in advance!


	5. Okay.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Come on, come on,  
> Say that we’ll be together.  
> Come on, come on,  
> Little taste of heaven.

Upon opening her eyes, Feyre was immediately confused. Not just about where she was, but about why she couldn’t quite see properly. Everything was more blurred than normal, and her eyes felt abnormally heavy. Bringing her fingers to touch her eyes, she realized it was because they were so swollen. It didn’t take long after that to remember everything that had happened to her, to remember seeing Rhysand moments before she lost consciousness. Feyre had been beaten to a pulp and left in an alley. Rhys and Mor had found her, Rhys almost immediately disappearing, and Mor had been in the ambulance with her.

As she glanced around the room, she saw she was alone. Anyone else may have been panicked, but Feyre had been fighting for survival since she was a kid and her parents had all essentially stopped being parents, both falling to drug addiction and dying when she was 14. The two sisters she had were always more focused on trying to keep a social standing. Feyre had worked three jobs, dropping out of school to keep her sisters financially supported. Waking up alone was something she had expected. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and exhaled, wincing at the tug of pain in her ribs when she inhaled another breath.

“Feyre?” Rhys low voice startled her, and she pushed herself to sit up straighter. Pain shot through her body making her hiss, and Rhys was instantly at her side, struggling between wanting to reach out to her to smooth her hair, but clearly not knowing if he should give her space or not. Feyre held out her hand to him, palm up, and he took it, his own hands bruised with split knuckles.

“Rhysand your hands-“

“I’m perfectly fine,” he said, though it came out a bit grim. Feyre shot him an incredulous look, so many words rising and falling behind her teeth. Finally, after struggling to come up with something to say, her eyes closed and she lay her head back against her pillow, declaring softly, “You found him.”

“Tamlin DeFleur has been a thorn in my side since we were children. I never allowed myself to demolish him the way I would have liked to, but this was something I couldn’t…Feyre when I found you…I-“

“I’m not mad. He…deserves it, frankly.”

“He was your fiancé,” Rhys said, a plain statement that Feyre nodded in agreement to.

“He was.”

“Was he ever-“

“No. No, he’d never been physical before. Toward the end of our relationship he got too…overprotective. It was like every masculine emotion he had was overwhelming and overbearing,” she lifted a shoulder, shaking her head slightly. “No, I don’t know who he was last night. I’d never seen that side of him before.”

“Well, he’s in jail now, so-“

“What? No, no. I’m not pressing charges,” she said hurriedly, shaking her head quickly. “No that’s – no.”

“What? Feyre-“

“I know what he did was wrong but he also did a lot for me that you don’t even understand, couldn’t begin to understand. I’m grateful for everything he’s done for me, regardless of this…incident I’m not pressing charges. And I don’t want to talk about it right now, there’s…just no.” Rhys’ lips formed a thin line as he looked her over, taking in all the wounds that were exposed, eyes grazing the places that he knew more bruises and cuts to be under her clothes, but he nodded, dropping into a chair next to her.

“I’ll take care of it then,” he said tightly, rubbing his fingers over her knuckles. She nodded, resting her head back against the pillows.

“Rhys?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you kiss me?” She asked, the question coming out barely above a whisper. He loosed a breath, the grim lines of his face disappearing as he stood, brushing his hand through her hair. His lips pressed to her forehead, were gentle as a summer breeze as he kissed both of her swollen eyelids, her cheeks, her nose. Feyre’s breath caught in her throat as his fingers tilted her chin slightly, pressing several soft kisses to her full lips.

“I can’t not be with you anymore,” he breathed, lips brushing the corners of her mouth. Feyre raised her hand, as bruised and battered as it was, and traced the lines of his cheek bone, the curve of his ear as she nodded. “Be with me.” Feyre tilted her head so her lips pressed to his, her fingers weaving into his hair.

“Okay.”

-

“Just because I’m not pressing charges doesn’t mean I’m putting myself at risk anymore. I can’t go back to our apartment,” Feyre said to Morrigan as she helped Feyre into regular clothes. “He knows where it is and he would know where to find me. We have to get a new place.”

“Or,” Rhysand drawled, strolling into the room. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, dressed in an immaculate black suit, the white dress shirt underneath his jacket unbuttoned at the top few buttons, bits of his tattoo peeking out against golden skin. “You can just move in with me.” Feyre’s head whipped around, hair fanning out around her and smacking Mor in the face. Mor frowned and poked Feyre in the spine, but the brunette paid the blonde no mind.

“I literally can’t live with my professor.”

“But you can live with your boyfriend,” he countered, picking up her hand and kissing her knuckles. Feyre gave him a dry look, trying to stop the way her mouth twitched at the corners, but Rhys noticed, and leaned down to kiss her. The smile that had been threatening to bloom spread across her face as she kissed him back, her hand lifting to cup his jaw. “Nobody has to know,” he murmured against her mouth. Mor made a gagging sound behind him.

“Fine,” Feyre pulled back, taking in his almost too-perfect face. She was only agreeing because she had no other options, not truly, short of calling up her sisters and asking if she could stay with them for awhile. That wasn’t an option at all, though. Not to Feyre. If she did that, she would have to admit to Nesta being right about Tamlin from the get-go, and that was something she wasn’t willing to do. Not yet, anyway. She wasn’t ready to see her sisters at all right now, much less see them while she was bruised and scabbed over like an assassin that was caught mid-mission.

Rhys picked up her bag of belongings and hitched it onto his shoulders, holding a hand out for Feyre to take, and she did. His fingers laced with hers and provided her cool fingers with warmth she hadn’t realized she’d been craving since he stepped into the room. Rhysand’s touch seemed to warm her body, mind, and soul, and she couldn’t believe she had been stupid enough to try to stay away in the first place. Or perhaps, she didn’t understand how she had been smart enough to stay away.

Mor followed the two out of the hospital and out to the car, jabbering away about how she would begin looking for new housing, too, despite not being scared of Tamlin. Feyre had come to find out over the last few days that they all knew Tamlin, had grown up with him, and all had different shades of a black and blue past with the man she had once loved and intended to marry. Rhys was particularly not fond of him, and had said multiple times that he’d heard of Tamlin’s engagement and had wanted to try to help the poor girl out of it before he’d known Feyre at all. Mor had countered that Feyre wouldn’t have fallen for him if she still loved Tamlin, and Feyre hadn’t said anything about the topic. Wouldn’t she have, though? Something about being with Rhysand felt right in a way that things with Tamlin never had, she just hadn’t known it to be any different. It’s like she and Tamlin only got along where the body was concerned – but with Rhys, they got along body, mind, and soul, as if they were two halves of a whole set out to find each other in a world of complete and utter madness.

-

It had been two weeks since the accident, and all of Feyre’s wounds – mostly superficial in nature – were healed, and she was over Rhysand coddling her like she was unable to function whatsoever. Anytime she had been hurt or sick around Tamlin, she had thought he was bad, but it held no candle to the way that Rhys was. He was constantly fussing. Feyre could hardly get up and walk to the bathroom without Rhys there, making sure she was getting around okay. He made all her food, ran all of her baths, and absolutely completely refused to do anything sexual with her until she was healed. And she was completely and utterly fed up with it. He’d refused to let her go to class until today, and relief was an understatement. She was beyond ready to dive back into her regular routine and catch up on her school work, to walk around campus and feel a sense of normalcy.

Feyre beat her boyfriend, and subsequently her professor, to class, choosing a seat that was directly in front of the podium he always stood at to lecture, and just about eye-level with him roughly two rows up. Only one or two students sat on the front row, the rest of them scattering in the higher rows to try to avoid being called on. It didn’t matter where you sat in Rhysand Asteria’s classroom, though. He would call on you regardless if it looked like you were paying attention, possibly even being more likely to call on the student that looked clueless to embarrass them.

The golden brunette was jumping out of her skin for him to get there as students filed into the room, filling in the tables one body at a time. Feyre crossed her legs beneath her desk, long legs exposed beneath the table and mid-thigh length skirt she’d chosen to wear today. If he was going to have her be tortured for two weeks inside his – their – home, she would torture him in other ways. Starting with her legs.

When he finally walked into class, he shot her a look with narrowed brows, silently asking if she was okay. Feyre lifted a shoulder subtly, then smiled, and his face relaxed into the mask of composure that he always wore in class. The mask he had to keep wearing so that the two of them didn’t get in trouble.

Rhys snagged his iPad out of his leather bag, walking to his teaching perch and dimmed the lights with the remote in his hand, the projector illuminating the screen with a slide show with an aesthetically pleasing opening slide titled The Battle of Orynth. Feyre swore under her breath – she had managed to miss the Battle of Anielle in her absence, which had always been one of her favorites.

The sounds of papers rustling pulled her back to the present as she opened her notebook along with the rest of class, clicking her pen and writing out the contents of the slide like the majority of the students. Rhys began talking, his voice smooth and sensual as always. It annoyed Feyre to no end that a handful of girls in the back of the class sat with chins in their hands, staring dreamily at her boyfriend as he taught, though she was tempted to do the same.

Instead of swooning over him like the other girls, however, she slid forward just slightly in her chair, her movement catching his attention. He was trying not to look at her, she could tell, but knew she had his full attention as she parted her legs, and he launched into a coughing fit that had him grabbing for his water bottle and taking a long drink. For underneath her skirt, she didn’t wear a stitch – and she was completely open and exposed for him in the middle of class.

Too casually, too slowly, she licked her lips, sucking her bottom one between her teeth for a moment before it slipped back out in a sensual way that he was too familiar with. Feyre even went as far to tilt her head back slightly and part her lips as she inhaled, her hand running up her thigh. When she looked back at Rhys, his hands were gripping the sides of his podium. Though she couldn’t tell from the difference, she was sure he wasn’t as casual as he looked. She was sure that his pants were getting uncomfortably tight, and she was almost positive that she was going to be in so much deep, unending shit when he dismissed everyone for the day.

Class went on like this for the rest of the hour: Feyre brushing her fingers along her skin, Feyre sucking on the end of her pen sensually, Feyre licking her lips in the most delicious way that had Rhys clenching his jaw between sentences. When he finally dismissed everyone, he had to force his eyes away from her as the lights brightened and she pushed her knees together, hiding the very thing he was starving for.

“Miss Archeron, a word with you in my office,” he said, his tone bored. Feyre knew, however, that he was anything but. She nodded, taking her time packing away her belongings. Rhys disappeared through the door to the office at least five minutes before she approached, knocking on the door and leaning against the frame.

“You wanted to see me, Professor?”

“The door, please,” Not bothering to look up from his work, he nodded, shuffling through a few papers, then closing his laptop and tucking it in his bag behind his chair. Feyre reached behind her, tugging the door closed. The sound of the latch clicking into place finally had Rhys looking up, a devious glint in his eye. Feyre took two small steps toward him, at which point he stood and pulled her to his chest, kissing her lips with fervor. Feyre sighed into his mouth, her hands twisting into his hair, and after a moment she pulled back, lips swollen and red, and shook her head.

“We can’t do this here,” she said, running her hands down his chest, eyes closed as though she were calming herself.

“And why, pray tell, can’t we do this here?” He murmured the words against her jaw, her neck, the curve of her shoulder. Feyre’s head dropped back involuntarily, giving him all the access he could want to her throat. His teeth grazed her skin, tongue following immediately after, and she found herself unable to focus on anything other than what his tongue would feel like between her legs.

“Nowhere to-“ she started, but she cut herself off when he swiped his arm across his desk, knocking all the contents to the floor. Before she could even begin to look around at the mess he made, he lifted her by her thighs and placed her on the edge, pushing her knees apart to stand between them. She started to speak, but he cut her off by pressing his mouth against hers, and his fingers pressing against the knot at the apex of their thighs. A low moan in her throat had him chuckling against her lips, her hips grinding against his hand. Her hands made quick work of unbuttoning his shirt, sighing into his mouth as she ran her hands down his chest, his abdomen. It had been weeks since they had slept together, Rhys refusing to even eat her out while she was on the mend.

“Please,” she whispered, lips against his chin and trailing down his neck while her fingers unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his slacks.

“Please what?” He crooned, teeth nipping at her ear. A small whimper, another plea, low in her throat had Rhys tugging her legs forward until she was seated on the very edge. His cock was hard and wanting in her hand, both of them lowering their heads, foreheads together, to watch him enter her. Feyre groaned, dropping her head back. Rhys took it as an invitation to lick the column of her throat, pausing to bite and suck at the curve of her shoulder as he slowly began to rock his hips. Thrust after thrust, her moans gradually getting louder. Rhys pressed his hand to her mouth, shushing her with his lips to her ear.

Feyre placed her hands against his chest, pushing him back enough that his cock slipped out and he looked at her with raised brows. She merely slipped off his desk and turned, tugging her skirt up her body as she did before she bent over, spreading her legs slightly and offering herself to him in a way he’d yet to take her. Rhys let out a groan, running his hands over her ass and watching his cock slip between her folds. Feyre’s face rested against one of her arms, her hands gripping the upper edge of his desk. Rhys bent over her body, his arms supporting him on either side of her. She moaned against her skin, biting down on the inside of her arm as he pounded into her over and over, his own moans getting louder and breathier the harder he fucked her.

One of his hands smoothed up the side of her body, bunching her shirt up to expose more, to feel more of her skin. His only complaint about the way they were fucking right now would have been that they weren’t nearly naked enough, that he wasn’t able to feel and see all of her. His complains stopped there, however, as he fucked her bent over his desk, a fantasy he’d had since the very first day he had recognized her in his class.

He reached up, tangling his hair in her hand and tugged slightly, earning a moan from her, so he tugged harder and pounded into her harder, her back arching and her ass pressing against him fully. When he slipped out, she whimpered at the loss of contact, but he sat down in his chair and leaned back, stroking himself until she straddled his waist and sunk back down on him, riding him hard enough that the only way to keep them both quiet was to occupy their mouths with each other’s tongues. His fingers snaked between their bodies, pressing against her clit, and then she was gone, his name falling from her lips like precious stones. Watching her ride through her release was enough to have him thrust up a few more times, moaning louder with each thrust, until he was spilling into her, her own voice going hoarse at the sensation.

“Rhys,” she leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his and looked into his eyes as her body shuddered and fractured above him. “Mother above, Rhysand.”

“I make you cum like that, and you start calling me Rhysand?” He teased, hands smoothing down her back. She was breathless as she reconnected their lips, shoving her tongue into his mouth to keep him quiet, her command silent but clear: ‘Shut up.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me at www.highqueenofelfhame.tumblr.com!

**Author's Note:**

> If you follow me on tumblr, then you’ll know that I’ve posted like three times that I wanted to write a professor/student AU, so HERE IT IS. It was initially going to be Rowaelin, but I went with Feysand instead. So i hope that you’re all okay with that. 
> 
> Follow me on tumblr! @highqueenofelfhame


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